


Three (or so) Wishes

by mific



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aladdin's Lamp, Ancient Tech, Fanfiction, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-21
Updated: 2010-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Why do I always end up dressed as a sex-slave, for Christ's sake?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three (or so) Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a McSmooch fest.

 

Later, Rodney realised that the weight of the thing should have warned him. It was made of dense, coppery metal with a dull sheen, only as big as two fists side by side but heavy, like lead. Packed with Ancient tech of course. The shape was suggestive as well, in retrospect, like a streamlined slipper with a handle at one end.

They were testing things in the lab, Sheppard doing his light-switch impression, a little bored, starting to get silly, touching the objects with a flourish as though his finger were a magic wand.

“If you say ‘abracadabra’ I’ll have to hit you,” Rodney warned.

Sheppard pouted. “You’re no fun, Rodney. Can we call it a day? I want to get some dinner.”

Rodney lifted the coppery thing out of the box, startled by its weight, and placed it on the table in front of Sheppard. “Just this, then we’re through.”

Sheppard extended his finger. “About time, the meatloaf’ll all be-” His words, his body, were swallowed up by a white shimmer not unlike an Asgard beam, and he vanished.

“Oh shit,” said Rodney. “Sheppard? Sheppard, are you there?” He turned in an unsteady circle, peering into the corners of the lab. No sign of him. Damn it, they were definitely going to miss out on the meatloaf. Rodney grabbed the stupid coppery shoe-thing and shook it. “Sheppard? Are you in there?” Jesus – he could be anywhere – beamed to another galaxy, a parallel dimension, to the past, the future. Anywhere.

Rodney fought down rising waves of panic and tried to stop his hands shaking. He took several deep breaths to calm himself and rubbed the smooth metal side of the thing that had vanished Sheppard, muttering “Please, John, please come back, please…”

“Whoa!” Sheppard floated in mid-air before him, arms raised, looking down at himself disbelievingly. “Man, those Ancients are kinky. And why do I always end up dressed as a sex-slave, for Christ’s sake?”

“Oh my god, you’re a jinn,” Rodney gasped, poking his fingers through Sheppard’s waist experimentally. Sheppard was semi-transparent, clearly some sort of hologram or projection. “It’s Aladdin’s goddam lamp, Ancient-style.”

“Stop that, Rodney!” Sheppard twisted away from his hand, snorting. “It tickles!”

“Huh,” Rodney mused, puzzled. “You must be stored in that thing, via some sort of lossless data transport beam, well, hopefully lossless. But how can your projection have sensation?”

Sheppard interrupted his feverish mutterings. “It’s kinda cool in here actually, you’d love it. There’s this huge database, I guess it’s an AI, and I’m sorta part of it. But I don’t get the goddam harem pants and sequined bolero get up, that’s just…” He waved his hands, disgusted.

“Very fetching, actually,” said Rodney, eyeing Sheppard’s exposed chest and midriff, all golden skin and dark hair. He tried not to stare at the line of hair disappearing into Sheppard’s loose, silken pants, slung so low on his jutting hipbones that they looked about to fall off.

“Rodney,” said Sheppard, a warning tone in his voice, crossing his hands in front of his groin. “Quit ogling me and figure out how to get me out of this thing.”

“Yes, yes, thinking,” muttered Rodney, still very distracted by the planes of Sheppard’s stomach, the red jewel in his navel. “Obviously you’re meant to be a jinn.”

“I’m a John not a jinn,” said Sheppard, sounding irritated and crossing his arms across his chest, looking even more like the jinn in the Classic Comic version of _Aladdin and his Lamp_ on which Rodney was basing his jinn-lore. All he needed was a pointy beard and a mustache.

“_Jinn_, or _djinn_, bastardized into _genie _by Hollywood and other idiots,” Rodney snapped impatiently. “You know, rub the lamp and the jinn appears to grant wishes.” He perked up at the thought. “Hey - wonder if I get three wishes? Hell, I probably used one already calling up your projection. Crap.”

“Why should _you_ get the goddam wishes?” demanded Sheppard, hands on hips, and Rodney was _not_ staring at the folds of silk stretching across his crotch as he arched his back. “It’s your fault I’m _in_ this thing, this lamp, data device, whatever. I could have been happily eating meatloaf with Teyla if you hadn’t badgered me into poking the Ancient junk.” He glowered. “Fucked if I’m going to grant you any damn wishes!”

“Oh yeah? I’m not sure you can resist, if I rub you the right way,” Rodney smirked, stroking the curved side of the lamp-thing.

“Jesus!” gasped Sheppard, clutching at his groin and doubling over.

“Interesting,” said Rodney. He stroked the lamp lasciviously from tip to handle with one finger, watching Sheppard clutch his cock with a hoarse moan, sliding to his knees, sweat beading his torso and upper lip.

Rodney was impressed. “I can see why jinns have to grant wishes, if that’s the effect. That’s one tiny detail the fairy tales glossed over. Hmmm. Fascinating how they’ve made the projection interactive.”

“Will you stop fucking with me and get me out of here already!” gasped Sheppard, flushed and panting, shielding the bulge in his flimsy trousers from Rodney’s eyes. “Make with the rest of the wishes if that’ll do it. C’mon, let’s go, McKay!”

“Don’t rush me, Sheppard. It’s not every day a man gets to play out the three wishes fantasy. Well, two wishes I guess, which I consider a total cheat, by the way, making me use one up just to get you to show yourself.”

“Jeez, McKay, I wasn’t trying to short-change you! This is all your goddam fault anyway but okay, whatever, I’ll grant you an extra fucking wish when I get out of here, alright?”

Rodney grinned, triumphant. “Oh yeah. Okay, what’ll I wish for? The Theory of Everything? No, probably make your head explode even if you could come up with it, and it’d take the pleasure out of it anyway, if I didn’t work it out myself.”

Sheppard shifted impatiently, making tapping-at-a-watch gestures on his slender, hairy wrist.

“Ummm, I wish for…a triple scoop chocolate cherry sundae, from Greg’s Ice Cream in Toronto.”

Sheppard rolled his eyes.

“What? It’s delicious! I used to go there when I was a kid! And I already know there’s no citrus in it.”

“Jesus,” said Sheppard in a disgusted tone, and waved one hand in a lazy manner. There was a faint pop and a huge sundae dripping with chocolate sauce and crystallised cherries appeared on Rodney’s lab bench.

“Oh my god, it worked!” Rodney’s eyes bugged out. “It’s exactly the same as I remember! How did you _do_ that?”

“Dunno,” Sheppard drawled. “The database found it somehow and materialised it. Is it real?” He moved forward to stick his finger in the sauce.

Rodney slapped his insubstantial hand away, grabbing the long-handled spoon and scooping up a dripping mouthful. He slurped it down, making noises of helpless pleasure and licking his lips. “God yes it’s real, it’s amazing.”

Sheppard slouched back, disgruntled. “Well done, McKay. So far you’ve used one wish to call me up and another for an ice-cream that’ll melt in a few minutes. Way to use those wishes.”

Rodney paused mid-spoonful, stricken, chocolate sauce trickling down his chin. “Oh god, I have, haven’t I? Wasted them? But I didn’t really believe you could do it, I mean, why would I? It’s so…” he waved his spoon about to express the astonishingly vast improbability of the whole situation, sending splashes of melted chocolate ice-cream through Sheppard’s half-there face.

Sheppard licked his lips thoughtfully. “Not bad ice-cream though, I’ll give you that. C’mon, get me out of here Rodney so I can share it with you.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes and pulled the sundae protectively toward himself. “I don’t know about that, plus you owe me the extra wish, don’t forget. Hmmm, what to wish for. Oh god, the pressure.” He closed his eyes and concentrated, then came to a decision. “Okay, staying with the _Arabian Nights_ theme here. I wish for a flying carpet.”

Sheppard grinned, “Now you’re talking.” He pointed his finger at Rodney’s laptop, causing it to make a pinging sound. “Best I can do at short notice – the specs are on your system now. How to build one, I mean.”

“Really? The plans for a real flying carpet that I can make?” Rodney’s eyes glowed and he gave a little hop and skip.

“Yeah. Figured you’d have more fun with it that way, and if I just materialised one you’d only take it apart to see how it worked.”

“Ha – you’re probably right.” Rodney rubbed his hands together happily, then froze, stricken. “Oh no. No no no. Damn. I should have used the last wish to get you out of there. Crap.” He frowned unhappily at Sheppard, mouth twisted with worry.

Sheppard thought for a moment. “The fairy tale stuff’s been working for us so far, why not borrow a clue from another story? C’mere and kiss me, Rodney.”

“Oh that is just…” said Rodney, flapping his hands and flushing. “How can that work? You’re not even...”

“Interactive interface, remember? C’mon, it’s worth a try.”

“Well, I…” Rodney took a hesitant step toward Sheppard. God knew he wanted to kiss him, had wanted to for months. And in that outfit with the slinky bronzed skin and the low-slung silk pants and the chest hair and Sheppard all long and slouchy and amused, waiting for him, hand on his hip...

Rodney reached up, tentative, and tried to kiss Sheppard on the lips. Sheppard made a soft sound and seemed to flow around him, getting into it. All very well for him, but Rodney couldn’t feel a thing, even if Sheppard was having a fine old time.

“I wish I could feel you,” Rodney said plaintively, and suddenly his arms were full of a very real, very warm body, pressed close against him, soft lips opening Rodney’s mouth, tilting his head back and licking chocolate sauce off his chin. Sheppard’s mouth closed on his again, and Rodney sank into it, hands clutching the t-shirt stretched across Sheppard’s back.

“Wish you’d gotten to keep the harem pants outfit,” Rodney gasped when Sheppard let go of him again.

“Like I’m going to let the marines see me in _that_ get up. I don’t think so.” Sheppard kissed the skin below Rodney’s ear and Rodney’s knees went weak. “Well, it worked, but you used up your extra wish.”

“Don’t care,” Rodney whispered, rubbing his nose up Sheppard’s jaw and pulling him closer. “I got what I wanted, don’t need any more wishes.”

It was quite some time before Sheppard let him breathe again. They clung together, arms tight around each other. “Least we got a flying carpet out of it,” Sheppard murmured into Rodney’s neck. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I got that for you,” Rodney said, smiling fondly.

The sundae was completely melted by the time John stopped kissing him.

 


End file.
